Secret In The Lake
by Alexandyne
Summary: Can you keep a secret? Set 500 years ago, the story of the creation of Camp Half-Blood. Following, from the beginning, why it was made, and the players involved that no one remembers. Mavum and Chiron, and the first war at Camp Half-Blood. From the beginning of life... to it's inevitable end, and a secret that'll effect everything, including a certain son of Poseidon. R&R!
1. Chapter 1

**I KNOW! EEEEEEW, AUTHOR'S NOTES! WHO ACTUALLY HAS THE TIME TO READ THOSE?**

**So, recently, it's been suggested that I update less often if I want reviews, otherwise people just keep reading the story without stopping to review. So, I figure I might as well give it a go, but while I'm bored I might as well do this, right?**

**So, welcome to Mavum's story, and the creation of camp-half-blood. I've actually started doing a hand-drawn comic book to go along with this, when I finish the first chunk I'll post it on some website and give y'all the link to go check it out, so keep an eye out for that.**

**I'll probably post on this one every other day or every 3 days or so, in an attempt to even out my posts between this and my other Percy Jackson Fanfiction. Anyway, enjoy!**

* * *

There once was a girl.

Shadows rippled across the bay, and a woman cloaked like a midwife stepped into the moonlight infront of the little fishing boat. In her arms, swaddled in white, was a tiny sleeping baby with bright red hair.

"Her name is Mavum... for now. Her mother is the queen, and her father is king. But it's so much more complicated than that. All you have to do is keep her safe, and get her to the new world. No one can ever know she exists. Can you do that?"

"I can. I will raise her like my own. When she is 16, I will tell her what you have told me, and she will come back to learn her father's name." The man that replied looked old, with deep lines creasing his face and black hair-going-gray. The woman passed him the child.

The child opened it's eyes in the man's arms, gazing at him with a single sea green eye, and a single stormy grey.

"We'll be waiting."


	2. The Death of an Honored Man

**Heyyy! Enjoy, review, subscribe, favorite, all that good stuff!**

* * *

His hand was cold and hot at the same time in my hand, and his face seemed to have folded in on itself out of age. His breathing was rough and hard, and he was working hard to keep his eyes open. The bed creaked under him as he strained to move his old bones, and I shushed him to keep still. The chair underneath me was incredibly uncomfortable, but I didn't dare to move from it.

"I'm sorry, Mavum," he whispered.

"No, don't be," I said back, brushing the hair out of his eyes.

"I am dying," he breathed. "You are young, but there is something you must know. There isn't much time, so don't interrupt." Tears flooded my eyes, and I held them back with a choked sound. He fixed his eyes on me and I saw with a sinking heart that his eyes were glazing over slowly, and I nodded feebly.

"You are only eight summers old. So young... so very young. What you must know, Mavum, is that I love you. And even though I have loved you as my daughter, I am not your father. Nor is your mother dead from childbirth." I opened my mouth to protest, but he shook his head, and I remembered I wouldn't interrupt. "When you were very small, you were handed to me, and I was told you were an English Princess, daughter of Queen Elizabeth. I wasn't told who your father was. I was told to keep you safe, and I have, and I have loved you as my own. But you must discover your identity.

"You must travel south, to the Spanish ports, and they will take you to Europe, if you show them the back of your amulet." His breath was ragged now, and it brought tears to my eyes. I bit my lip, and absentmindedly touched my amulet. My amulet was something I had had since before I could remember. It was etched with a black, caricatured ocean and lightning bolt, with a faint outline of a rose going around it. It was cold an heavy in my hand just then, and I turned it over to see the ever so familiar rose printed in stunning detail on the back. A red rose around a white rose, with five green leaves coming out from between the red petals. I looked back up at him.

"I'm sorry, Mavum," he breathed again. I shook my head fiercely, and reached out and held his hand. "Even if I'm not your blood-father, know that I love you as my daughter. Be safe. Make your mark on the world. You're special, Mavum... I just know it. I love you... good bye." His old eyes were sad, and I choked back a sob. I held his hand ever so tightly, when his eyes closed and his hand went limp. Hesitantly, I loosened my fingers, and his hand fell to the bed with a dead, dull thump.

My chest felt like it was on fire. It was a sort of pain I can't describe, even now, hundreds of years later. I can't describe it as anything other than a breaking heart. The world around me looked broken through my tears, and I bit my lip to keep it from trembling. I couldn't get my shoulder's to stop shaking with silent sobs, and I slowly fell across the bed, watching the color drain from his dead face.

I don't know how long I stayed there, but when I finally stopped crying the dawn was rising outside. It hadn't yet been dark when he died. I didn't have any tears left, and was numb to an extent, but I had that sort of resillience small children had. So, I got up, I very quietly packed my things, and walked over to his desk. He had made it from his bare hands when I was three, I could still remember him stamping his feet as he got a splinter and saying the most absurd things to avoid cursing infront of the child – "Flying turtle dog dang it" being one of them – and it made me sad all over again. Spread out across the top of the desk was a map, with rough edges from getting splashed with salt water and slightly smeared ink. On the right of the map was a true European map, on the left was a sketch of a coastline he himself had drawn as we sailed up what is now modern day Florida all the way to New York.

I rolled it up, and added it to my collection of things. I then took a deep breath and left the cottage, heading down a deer path to an open clearing. A Poospatuck village spilled out before me, and I padded down the hill. I had learned their language, along with Spanish and French and English, at a very very young age from Papa. Papa... what should I call him, now? I decided then that he would still be Papa, no matter what information I had learned from 24 hours ago going on indefinitely.

A man met me that I recognized but couldn't place with a name, coming up to me. Roughly translated, he said, "White-Skin, what are you doing here so early?"

"Papa died," I said, looking up at him. I didn't bother to translate Papa, because they all knew that's how I addressed him. The Poospatuck man's face crumpled, and he rested a hand lightly on my shoulder.

"I am sorry, little one," he said. "He shall have an honored man's funeral." I nodded quietly.

"He's not my father," I said, when we were most of the way down the village. "And I must return to the land-over-seas, to find my mother and father."

"A quest of womanhood," the man said, bowing slightly. He nodded. "We will take care of his affairs, if you wish to leave soon." I nodded briskly, trying not to think about what I was doing.

"The boat we arrived in," I said, "I need it to head south. I cannot make it all the way down the coast on foot, and there are no horses here..."

The man's face was confused, but he knew horses just as well as I did. I had never seen one in person, only Papa's drawings.

The rest of the day till noon passed in a blur. The boat was readied, and I put my bag aboard. It looked so woefully small against the deck, but I didn't want to return and get more. Papa's funeral pyre went by at noon, with an honorary feast for the White Man, and before an hour had passed I was waving goodbye from the shore, heading out to see and to the south, and hoping that Papa's sailing lessons had been enough for me to get to the Spanish ports.


	3. The Boy on the Beach

**FYI, reviews are important to me so if you could review that would be fabulous. If you like the character from this story, please check out my other current Percy Jackson story which also features this character. It's called Blood On Olympus, if you're interested. For those of you who speak Spanish, I am sorry I don't have tilde's or upside down questions or exclamations or anything like that on my keyboard, so I had to type it all using an English keyboard. :/  
**

* * *

Do you ever have this chunk in your childhood memories where you really don't remember much? Where it's just like a blur, with a few things you remember in startling clarity at either end of this chunk of time but you can't really remember anything between?

Well, that was what the sail down the coast was like to me. I remember tacking the line around the Carolinas, and I know I swapped sails several times, and I vaguely remember a storm down around Georgia. I know I had to hunt for my food, but I can't remember what I hunted or what I ate. It's a blur filled with ropes and line and wooden decks and waves, the scent of salt in the air.

I don't even really remember how long it took me to get to the point where I first saw the Spanish ports. I couldn't even tell if it was properly winter because of how warm it was down south; it was like fall or spring where I came from.

My first real memory after Papa's death is seeing a huge ship sailing across a bay in Florida. I remember being so scared, and quickly bringing my little boat to dock on the shore and hiding in the trees until it was gone. My entire life, the only thing close to a boat/ship that I had seen was the one Papa and I had. The Natives had canoes and whatnot, of course, but they couldn't hold a candle to the ship in the bay that I saw.

It was huge and made of shining wood. Crystals were on the side from dried sea salt, making it glitter in the sunlight across the bay, like a ship of diamonds. It was much bigger than my own little boat, and the men upon it seemed so small to me as to be ants.

After that, I was much more cautious in my sailing. The water thrummed to me, and I never had any problems sailing. I didn't question my luck or my sailing forte, but now looking back on it I realize I had an extraordinarily easy sailing trip. I made it down to a port in the Carribean, on some island I didn't know and still don't recall, and saw a huge ship docked and loading up things to ship across. I docked my little fishing boat on the other side of the island, out of their sight, and set off on foot around the curve of the island.

A little boy played in the sand perhaps a hundred metres from the ship, singing to himself. A voice reached my ears, yelling something I couldn't hear, and the boy looked up.

"Estoy veniendo, senor!" (A/N: That made me cringe. It's supposed to have the ~ over the n.) the boy yelled. My ears perked up; I spoke Spanish next to fluently from my studies with Papa, and translated his words to 'I'm coming, dad!'.

"Wait!" I said, forgetting to speak in Spanish. The boy looked up and saw me, startled. He was probably my age, maybe nine. He had big brown eyes and heavy black curls hanging in his eyes. I walked quickly to him across the hot sand, and held out my amulet to him. He didn't recognize it.

"Quien eres?" he asked. _Who are you?_

"Soy Mavum," I replied. _I'm Mavum._

"Mavum?" he asked, his brows knitting together. He then smiled. "Hola, Mavum. Me llamo Tanner." _Hullo, Mavum. I call myself Tanner._

"Necesito ir a Europa," I said urgently. "Puedes tomarme?" _I need to go to Europe. Can you take me?_

"Uhhh... tal vez," he replied, scratching his chin. "Por que?" _Uh... maybe. Why?  
_

"Porque necesito a hablar con la reina de Inglaterra," I said, slightly uncertain. My Spanish training hadn't encompassed the grammar with that sentence yet. _Because I need to talk with the queen of England.  
_

He frowned, thought about it, then nodded.

"Segue me," he said, getting to his feet and walking down the hard sand of the beach where it was soaked by the waves. _Follow me._

"If," he said very slowly, with a very thick Spanish accent. "Are looking for queen, are English?"

"Yes," I said, smiling slightly at his butchering of English grammar. "I am English."

"You cover hair," he said, pointing to my long red hair. "No girls allowed." I looked at him blankly, then realized what he was asking for and put my hair in a bun and shoved it under my cap. He nodded, and before I knew it the ship was in front of us.

"Welcome," he said. He pointed to himself. "Talk to captain about you." I nodded, and we walked up a plank onto the deck. The boy disappeared into a doorway, and the crew members looked at me. I am pale, and always have been, so it was pretty obvious to them that I wasn't a native. As a matter of fact, it was probably pretty obvious I was English. I smiled awkwardly at them, and waited for the boy to come back.

"Mavum," he said, reappearing and causing me to jump. "Puedes venir con nos a Espana." I smiled at him, relieved. _You can come with us to Spain._

"Gracias."


	4. Author's Note: My bad, guys

**Alright. My bad. Actually, my brother's bad. He's the one that chased the cat onto my laptop...**

**Anyway, my laptop is broken. (The screen has a centre to this crack on it suspiciously cat-paw shaped...)**

**So. I will not be able to get on the computer much. And I got an MRI on my wrist (Dude, not recommended. Two thumbs down. That hurt like a B***!) which involved slamming a very large needle in between the bones of my wrist... which means one handed typing! Yay! Which takes forever, let me tell you...**

**The consequence?**

**Welllll I won't be able to write much. So until I get my laptop repaired/replaced, there will most likely be no updates. I know, sucks. But the thing is you'll probably forget or have no clue when this updates for those few weeks, so my request to you guys is to add this to your favorites so that way when it finally gets updated you get a nifty little email telling you so. Just so that you don't forget or whatever or 5 months from now sit there scratching your head like "Hey, what was that Percy Jackson thing with the redheaded freak called?" **

**Sooo... yeah. This is my apology, and please favorite this or whatever so you can know when it's updated. Thanks!**


End file.
